


Riverrun

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Finally, Catelyn caught a glimpse of the boy she was to call brother. He was frowning. The frown looked almost to be a permanent part of his face, so deeply was it etched there.'</p><p>Stannis is fostered at Riverrun.</p><p>Written for Stannis FicArt Week!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riverrun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariel2me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/gifts).



> Prompt for Stannis FicArt Week: What if Stannis was fostered at Riverrun and grew up with Catelyn, Lysa, Edmure and Littlefinger? 
> 
> Gifted to Ariel because this was her prompt and I worked extra hard on it especially for her :) A round of applause, please, for Ariel who organised this whole crazy week!

278 AL

Father ordered them all outside on the morning of the boy’s arrival, dressed in their finest clothes. It was be an honour, he had said, for him to be chosen to foster the brother of the Lord of the Stormlands. It had been a hasty arrangement, Catelyn knew, made soon after Lord Stefon Baratheon and his wife, the Lady Cassana, were killed in a shipwreck. Lord Jon Arryn, the guardian of the oldest Baratheon son, Lord Robert, had persuaded his charge that his brother, Stannis, should be fostered away from Storm’s End, in order to continue the education that their father had no doubt started. As Robert’s heir, it was important that Stannis learned the ways of effective lordship.

It was a cold morning and Catelyn stepped away from her place at her father’s side and tenderly retied the scarf that her little brother had managed to work loose with his wandering hands. Edmure was five name days old now, growing fast, but still so young in so many ways. He looked up at her with those huge blue eyes and, when she had finished arranging his scarf, he turned his head quickly and kissed her hand. She smiled and smoothed down his unruly red hair, catching Lysa’s eye as she did so. Her sister smiled back. At fourteen and twelve name days old, Catelyn and her sister were the very best of friends. 

“Cat,” her father said quietly, as the sound of an approach began to ring around the courtyard, “Come back to your place, my sweet.”

She slipped back into the line, reaching out to squeeze her father’s arm as she did so. Edmure had stopped worrying at his scarf and watched with huge eyes as the first horsemen rode into the castle. Uncle Brynden put a steadying hand on his shoulder, holding him still; Edmure was likely to forget himself and move in for a closer look. 

The horsemen lined up neatly and, finally, Catelyn caught a glimpse of the boy she was to call brother. He was a year younger than her, she knew, and when he jumped down from his horse she saw that he had not yet had the sudden spurt of growth that all boys had which turned them into men. His hair was coal black, his eyes the very darkest of blue, and he was frowning. The frown looked almost to be a permanent part of his face, so deeply was it etched there. 

“My Lord Stannis,” Father stepped forwards and inclined his head politely, “Welcome to Riverrun.”

The boy bowed neatly and replied in a voice that sounded recently broken, “Lord Tully. I thank you for your hospitality.”

“Allow me to introduce my family,” Father turned to Catelyn first, “This is my eldest daughter, Lady Catelyn; my other daughter, Lady Lysa; my heir, Lord Edmure; my brother, Ser Brynden and my other ward, Petyr Baelish of the Fingers.”

Lord Stannis made his way politely along the line, kissing Catelyn and Lysa’s hands, inclining his head to Edmure, nodding at Uncle Brynden and Petyr. Catelyn smiled at him but he merely glanced up at her from under his eyelids and did not smile in return. 

“He is very grim,” Lysa whispered to her as they finally turned to move inside to the feasting hall, “Does he ever smile?”

“I expect he is tired,” Catelyn answered, watching their new guest curiously as he took his place besides Father at the table, “And he might be shy. Give him time. I am sure we shall all be friends.”

Lysa didn’t look convinced but she dropped the subject for the moment. Edmure climbed up into his chair besides Catelyn and stared quite openly at the new arrival.

“Don’t stare, Edmure,” Catelyn said gently, “It is very rude.”

“Do you think he will teach me to fight?” Edmure tried to whisper but his voice carried across the table, “Do you think he will, Cat?”

Lord Stannis had clearly heard the little boy, because he looked over with an unreadable look on his face. When he saw Catelyn looking at him, he dropped his eyes to his plate and a dull flush crept up his neck and onto his face.

“Maybe, Edmure. Come now. It is time to eat.”

She did not blame her little brother for his curiosity. Edmure would have loved having an older brother, she knew. Petyr was young himself, only a few years older. Lord Stannis was close to being a man and probably already was one in Edmure’s eyes. She could only hope that she was right, that the new arrival was only shy and would soon be willing to join in with his new foster siblings. It might break Edmure’s heart if he turned out to be anything but perfect.

*********

It was late in the evening when Catelyn slipped into the library to find a new book to read. It was raining outside, the drops pattering against the windows, and she was looking forwards to curling up in her bed and listening to it as she read. She just needed to wait long enough for Lysa to fall asleep in their shared room, so that the light would not disturb her. 

There was a candle burning in the library when she arrived and she hesitated on the threshold, not wanting to bother whoever was here so late. Sometimes Uncle Brynden liked to be in here and he did not like to be disturbed, although he would never have told her to leave. 

“Uncle Brynden?” she said softly, “Uncle Brynden?”

Someone cleared their throat and she knew immediately who was there, just from that sound. She had grown used to it over the past week; Lord Stannis seemed unable to speak unless he had cleared his throat first. 

“My lady,” he appeared from behind one of the shelves, thick volume open in his hand, “Your uncle is not here. Only me.”

“Lord Stannis,” she stepped inside, “I did not expect to see you here.”

In the semi-darkness, his rather plain face became much more interesting to look at, the shadows highlighting his cheekbones and his dark eyes flecked with light. He looked down at the book in his hand and retreated back to the chair he had been tucked into. She followed him and sat down in another.

“I like to read, my lady,” he offered, “Your father has many books we do not have at home.”

He had shared so little of himself over the past week that this was practically a revelation. Father was worried about him, she knew, and she decided to try and talk to him a little more. Lord Stannis was still in mourning, she reminded herself; his parents had died only a month ago. Of course he would be quiet and withdrawn. She remembered only too well when Mother had died. 

“I like books as well,” she smiled, “History.”

“I like history too,” he held up the book he was reading so she could see the cover. It was about the history of Riverrun, a tome that she knew well. 

“I thought it best to know the history of the place I am to live.”

There was the barest hint of a sigh under his words and he looked away again, his eyes seeking out the rain battered window. 

“I suppose this weather reminds you of your home,” she said gently, “Is it so very stormy in the Stormlands?”

“It is,” he said sharply and Catelyn immediately realised her mistake. His parents had died in a storm. How very stupid of her to forget that.

“I am sorry, my lord,” she said quietly, “And I was so very sorry to hear about your parents. You have my deepest sympathies.”

His face was red as he stared down at his hands and there was a curious noise, which she realised was the grinding of his teeth. She wondered if he was about to cry and felt even more guilty, but then he looked up and she saw a flash of pain cross his face before he schooled his features once more.

“Thank you, my lady.”

Deciding to give him some space, Catelyn stood and began to browse the shelves. She kept half an eye on him and saw that he was trying to watch her without looking like he was. She thought she saw confusion in the mix of emotions on his face and wondered what it was doing there. According to her father, Lady Cassana had been one of the loveliest ladies he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, so it did not seem that Lord Stannis could be a stranger to soft words and kindness. Perhaps he was unused to girls of his age. Yes, that was more likely, she thought. He had never had sisters.

She took a long time choosing her book, settling eventually for a history of the Stormlands that she had previously ignored. She showed the book to her companion and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Have you some interest in the Stormlands, my lady?”

“Of course,” she smiled, “My new foster brother calls them home, don’t you know. I feel I should know more about them.”

A small smile, the first she had seen from him in over a week, crossed his face then and it was a shy, awkward thing. He did not know how to smile. That would have to be something that she taught him then. It would not do to have a brother who could not smile.

“I am going to my chamber,” she declared, “Are you going to yours? We could walk together.”

“Of course,” he said politely, picking up his book and his candle and following her from the room. The chambers for the children were all on the same corridor, on the opposite side of the castle to the library, and as they walked he answered some more questions about his home. His voice was cold when he talked of his older brother and she wisely moved away from the subject and onto the younger brother, about whom Lord Stannis seemed more willing to talk. Little Lord Renly was younger than Edmure and her companion admitted he was concerned that his little brother should be without both his siblings at a time like this. Hearing the genuine worry in his voice, she added Renly to the list of reasons in her head of things that made Lord Stannis so withdrawn and moody. With so much to worry about, she could hardly blame him for his attitude. She would be the same if someone ever took her away from Edmure, she knew.

They reached the door of her chamber first and she turned to him.

“Well, goodnight, my lord. It was good to talk to you at last.”

“Thank you, my lady. Goodnight.”

“It is so terribly formal, don’t you think?” she said daringly, “My lord and my lady. You are to be our brother here. Perhaps I may call you Stannis. And you may call me Catelyn.”

He looked dumbfounded and then he nodded slowly.

“As you wish…Catelyn.”

“Goodnight, Stannis. Do sleep well.”

*******

279 AL

A little over a year had passed since Stannis came to live at Riverrun and Catelyn believed that, finally, her foster brother was happy, or at least content. She did not know if he had the ability to be happy and, as sad as that was, she had come to understand it was a part of him, a part that might never be changed. He did not know how to jest and he grew irritable at Petyr’s silly pranks, regardless of how amusing they might actually be. He rarely smiled and he liked to be alone, but Catelyn found that she liked him anyway. He was clever and Father enjoyed his company and Uncle Brynden said he had skill in the training yard. He would be a fearsome warrior one day. He also swam as well as any of the Tully children and could always be persuaded to join them in the river. Most importantly though, he was gentle with Edmure, courteous with Lysa and tried his best with Petyr, who would try even the most patient of men. 

It was the middle of the night when she woke and, for a moment, she was not sure what had woken her so abruptly. Lysa slept soundly in the other bed and there was no more noise than the usual night time sounds of the castle. She strained her ears for something out of place and finally heard it, a low murmur of voices coming from the room next door. From Edmure’s chamber.

She slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe, padding lightly across the room and out of the door. Edmure’s door was ajar where she knew she had closed it earlier and there was the faint glow of a single candle creeping out into the hall. She could hear the voices more clearly now; Edmure’s, high and clear, and a lower rumble that belonged to Stannis. 

Curiously, she crept up to the door and peered in. Edmure was sat up in bed, his eyes wide, and tears running down his face. Stannis sat on the edge of the bed and was holding Edmure’s hand.

“It was only a dream, Edmure,” he was saying, “Just a dream. Dreams cannot hurt you.”

“But Stannis-”

“They cannot hurt,” Stannis said firmly, although not unkindly, “Stop this crying now. I am here. Nothing will hurt you.”

Edmure hiccoughed slightly but the tears stopped soon enough. Stannis sat patiently until they did and then he used his sleeve to wipe Edmure’s face. 

“My mama was there,” Edmure whispered, and Catelyn’s heart clenched, “I don’t remember what she looked like but I know it was her. She was on the other side of the river and there was a monster and I couldn’t swim and-”

“Do not upset yourself again,” Stannis said, “I dream of my mother sometimes. Do you know what my maester told me once, about dreams?”

“No.”

“He said that when you dream of someone, it means they are thinking of you, wherever they are and wherever you are. Your mother is thinking of you, Edmure. Think on that instead.”

Catelyn could hear the traces of disbelief in Stannis’ voice and knew he would not believe such a silly, sentimental thing to be true. Edmure, on the other hand, broke into a wide smile.

“Really? Is it true, Stannis?”

“It is,” the older boy said gruffly, “And now you must go back to sleep and see if she is still thinking of you.”  
“I will. Goodnight, Stannis.”

“Goodnight, Edmure.”

Catelyn waited outside of the room. Stannis did not seem surprised to see her; he must have heard her chamber door open. 

“Thank you for going to him. I didn’t hear.”

“It was nothing.”

Catelyn had to look up at Stannis now, his growth spurt having finally begun a few months before. He was now the same height as Father and she knew he would end up being taller. Despite this, he still seemed to defer to her seniority, to the whole year on him in age that she had. It was very sweet, in a way, but sweet was not a word she would easily apply to Stannis Baratheon. He was a riddle, that much was clear.

“It is not nothing to Edmure, Stannis. Do not put yourself down so easily.”

He nodded sharply and she knew he wasn’t listening. It did not seem worth fighting over it at this time of night. She would have to address that, one day. One day he would have to be made to see.

************

281 AL

“He is terribly handsome, Cat,” Lysa said, her arm tucked through her sister’s, “Don’t you think he is terribly handsome?”

“I do,” Catelyn smiled, her eyes fixed on the people down below in the yard. Brandon Stark, her husband to be, was down there with her uncle, her brother and foster brothers. This was the first time she had met him, this visit to Riverrun, and her sister was right. He was really very handsome. At dinner the night before, she hadn’t been able to tear her eyes from him as he sat talking to her father and to Stannis. She had blushed when he spoke to her. She was acting like a silly girl, she knew, and she couldn’t help herself at all. 

Edmure and Petyr were circling one another down in the yard, dressed for combat and armed with little wooden swords. Petyr was five years older than Edmure but he was so small and struggled so with combat that Uncle Brynden often allowed them to spar; Petyr was no danger to the younger boy, not really. 

“Keep your shield up, Petyr,” Uncle Brynden said, watching the boys carefully, “He’ll come in from the left, you know he always does.”

Edmure lunged forwards at that moment, doing just that, and Petyr managed to bring his shield round to stop the blow. Catelyn could see the look of determined concentration on his face, a look that was usually lacking when he was being forced to spar. Normally he hated this daily exercise. She wondered who he was showing off for. 

This carried on for a while, the clash of sword on shield as the boys exchanged blows, and then Brandon called out from where he was leaning against the wall, “Go for his knees, Edmure, his shield is too high.”

Instinctively, Edmure obeyed and took a swipe under the shield that knocked Petyr off his feet. Brandon laughed, not unkindly, but Petyr jumped to his feet and tore off his armour. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he said, “Not today.”

He stormed out of the yard, climbing the steps up to join Catelyn and Lysa, sitting moodily besides them.

“I hate him,” he growled, “I hate him. Why do you have to marry him, Cat?”

“He wasn’t being unkind, Petyr,” Catelyn said gently, “He wasn’t laughing at you.”

“It sounded like he was,” the boy answered, “Lysa, you saw. He laughed at me.”

“Perhaps he did, Petyr. Are you hurt? Did Edmure hurt you?” she turned to him and put a worried hand on his arm. He shook her off and crossed his arms.

“He didn’t hurt me. He’s a baby. I just don’t like being laughed at.”

Back in the yard, Uncle Brynden was freeing Edmure from his armour and then sent him up to sit with his sisters. Edmure planted himself on Catelyn’s lap and leaned over to watch the action.

“My lord Stannis,” Brandon said, “Can I persuade you to spar with me? I hear you are a formidable partner.”  
Stannis glanced at Uncle Brynden and Catelyn knew he didn’t believe what her uncle had told her fiancée. Nevertheless, he began to pull on his armour.

“Perhaps not formidable, Lord Brandon, but I will spar with you.”

Brandon had a good four years on Stannis but seeing them both in armour, that didn’t seem to matter. Stannis was even taller than Uncle Brynden now and broad with it, as big a man as his father had once been, according to her own father. Brandon was broad but he was shorter than the young man. It looked like it would be a fairly matched fight. 

They began amicably enough and then Uncle Brynden told them to fight, to try and knock the other to the ground. Brandon was a very strong swordsman but Stannis, Catelyn saw, was quicker and she secretly hoped that he would win this fight. It would be good for him to win, and it might soothe Petyr’s temper a little to see Brandon lose. 

“Come on Stannis!” Petyr called suddenly, jumping to his feet, “Knock him down!”

“Go on Stannis!” Edmure joined in, “Go on!”

Perhaps he was moved a little by the cries of support. Perhaps he was going to win anyway. Whatever the cause, Stannis caught Brandon off balance and knocked him to the floor, standing over him and raising his helm. 

Brandon was laughing as he pulled off his own helmet.

“Well fought, Lord Stannis, well fought. I see Ser Brynden was telling it true.”

Catelyn could see Stannis blushing even from her perch above the yard. He reached down and helped Brandon to his feet. Edmure rushed down to them, closely followed by Petyr and they both crowded around Stannis.

“Did you hear us, Stannis?” Edmure asked, tugging on his sleeve, “We were cheering you on, Stannis.”

“I heard. Thank you.”

“Perhaps I would have won had I a cheering section,” Brandon quipped, ruffling Edmure’s hair, “What do you think, Edmure?”

“I think Stannis is better than you,” Edmure said seriously and Brandon laughed again.

“Loyalty. I should have known. What are your words? Family, Duty, Honour.”

“Family, Duty, Honour,” Edmure said firmly, “Come on, Stannis.”

Before he followed his foster brother from the yard, Catelyn caught the look on Stannis’ face as he processed what Brandon and Edmure’s conversation had meant. 

And then she caught the tiny, tiny smile.

***********

282 AL

The world was changing and Catelyn was so very afraid. They had heard the news that morning, the news that King Aerys had finally shown his true self to the world. Brandon was dead and his father was dead and many of their friends were dead and now the king was demanding that Lord Jon Arryn hand over Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. 

The messenger had come before breakfast and the maester had brought the letter to the table, so shocked was he by the news. Father had dropped the parchment into his food, his hands shaking with shock and horror. 

“Father,” Catelyn said, “Father, what has happened?”

Lord Stark,” he murmured, “And Brandon. They’ve been murdered. In King’s Landing. By the king.”

It was only after Petyr and Edmure had been led from the room by the maester that Father dared to tell them what had really happened, how Rickard Stark had been roasted alive and Brandon strangled in his attempts to save his father. How the king was asking for the lives of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark too. Catelyn barely heard him. Lysa began to cry and Stannis sat frozen, grinding his teeth. 

“He can’t go on, Hoster,” Uncle Brynden said angrily, “He can’t go on like this. The whole bloody family is insane. We’ve known it for decades.”

Catelyn lurched to her feet and stumbled from the room, wanting nothing more than to empty her rolling stomach. She made it to her chamber and was sick in her chamber pot, hot tears running down her face and into her mouth. The salty taste made her heave again and then she lay on her side, sobbing. She cried for Brandon and his father, her hot-headed, laughing Brandon who had made her heart flutter. She cried for those other boys and their fathers, murdered for their loyalty to their lord. She cried for Robert and for Eddard, who were now in so much danger and she cried for Stannis, her friend Stannis, who was probably in just as much trouble just for being Robert’s brother. It wasn’t fair.

Lysa came in soon after and wrapped her arms around her, holding her as she cried. She was crying too and Catelyn knew that her sister’s tears were for her. 

The only thing that roused them was a shrill cry from outside the room; Edmure and Petyr were fighting, as they sometimes did. Catelyn unwound Lysa’s arms from around her shoulders and went to stop them. She knew that the atmosphere in the castle would be why they were fighting but she also knew that her father would not appreciate it at a time like this.

By the time she got there, Stannis was already with the boys. He had an arm around Edmure’s waist and he had lifted him bodily from where he had been sitting on top of Petyr, whose nose was bleeding as he stumbled to his feet.

“Stop this,” Stannis snapped, “Stop this now.”

“He said he was pleased that Brandon was dead!” Edmure shrieked, pointing at Petyr, “He said he was pleased. That is not the right thing to say, Stannis! That’s horrible.”

“It is,” Stannis said severely, “Petyr, go to the maester and get him to stop the bleeding. And then stay away from Edmure if you cannot stop yourself from saying disgusting things.”

Petyr, mumbling under his breath, pinched his nose between his fingers and ran away. Lysa, who had followed Catelyn from their chamber, chased after him. Catelyn left them to it; her sister was always better at talking sense into the boy.

Edmure wriggled out of Stannis’ grasp and ran to Catelyn, throwing his little arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Cat. I’m sorry he is dead.”

“Thank you, sweetling,” she whispered, her throat raw from crying. She stroked his hair and looked up as Stannis took a step closer to her.

“My sympathies, Catelyn.”

“Thank you. And you? You must be worried for your brother?”

“I do not know what to think,” Stannis admitted, “And I do not know what is going to happen next.”

*********

Lord Arryn refused to hand over his charges, a fact that Catelyn was so very grateful for. When it became clear that this was the start of a rebellion, a rebellion that would be led by his brother, Stannis was ordered to return to Storm’s End and hold the castle as best he could. He was seventeen name days old and now he would be the commander of a force much larger than any he had ever seen, let alone been a part of. 

Edmure cried when he found out Stannis was leaving and clung to his foster brother, begging him not to go. 

“I have to, Edmure. It is my duty to my brother.”

When the little boy did not release his grip, Catelyn watched Stannis’ face soften a little and he rested a hand on Edmure’s head.

“I will write to you, if you wish. And when this is over, you can come to Storm’s End.”

It all happened very quickly after that and soon enough, the day came when Stannis was due to leave them. The whole castle turned out, just like the day he had arrived four years ago, to see him off. 

“Goodbye, my young lord,” Father said, and Catelyn saw a sheen of tears in his eyes, “Stay safe, as well as you can.”

“I will, my lord.”

Stannis said goodbye to Edmure and Petyr; Edmure threw his arms around him again and Stannis bore the gesture gracefully enough. He squeezed Lysa’s hand and then turned to Catelyn. She did it much more regally than her brother, but she was not going to let Stannis go without an embrace. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, feeling as his own arms hesitantly came around her waist.

“Be careful, Stannis,” she whispered, “I will miss you. I hope we shall meet again.”

“As do I, Catelyn,” he said sincerely, pulling away slightly so that she could see his face, “Th-thank you. For everything.”

And then he mounted his horse and he rode away, without looking back. She knew why he didn’t look one more time. She knew how much this castle had come to mean to him. She knew how much they had come to mean to him. 

She watched for as long as she could see him and his party, riding away. She did not know that the next time she would see him, the war would be won. She would be married to Eddard Stark and she would attend her foster brother’s wedding, arranged by his brother who was still a brute and who Stannis still hated. She did not know that she would never see him smile again and she did not know that one day they would be enemies. 

She did not know that he would save the life of the smuggler, Davos Seaworth, because he had learned about justice from her father. She did not know that he would win battles because of everything that Uncle Brynden had taught him. She did not know that he would be able to even look at his wife because he had learned how to be around women with his foster sisters. She did not know that any gentleness he would share with his sickly daughter would be because of his relationship with Edmure. 

She did not know any of this. 

All she knew at that moment was that she loved her foster brother. She loved him very much.


End file.
